


Justice Scalia or: How He Learned To Stop Being An Originalist And Love The Homosexuals

by mambo



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, i have no excuses for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 17:54:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4231254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mambo/pseuds/mambo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain America, Bucky Barnes, and their magical Pomeranian have dinner with Antonin Scalia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Justice Scalia or: How He Learned To Stop Being An Originalist And Love The Homosexuals

**Author's Note:**

> passthecocaine wanted this fic and so I wrote it for her because she is my friend and she offered me a hamburger.
> 
> If you read this, you will want to know that Jacques-Ignace de la Touche is Steve and Bucky's adopted Pomeranian. I wrote a short thing about him before, which you can read here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/2336336/chapters/8655355.

Antonin Scalia was casually minding his own business, sitting back with a first-edition _Captain America_ comic book in his hand. He had used the money he had gotten from his last book to complete his full set of comics. Though he was never much of a comics fan—he had preferred listening to opera, even in his youth—he did always have a soft spot for Captain Steve Rogers and his adventures with the Howling Commandos.

“I wonder what Cap would think about all this jiggery-pokery,” Scalia says to his empty office, trying to ignore the shouting from beyond the walls of the Supreme Court Building. “A God-fearing veteran… He is probably upset about how the country he fought for is turning out.” Scalia sighs, but opens up the laptop on his desk. “Maybe he’s made some kind of statement about it,” he wonders aloud, looking at the signed Captain America recruitment poster he got for himself when he was first appointed to the Supreme Court. Those were the days.

Now it’s probably the end of days.

Once his computer is on, Scalia tries to find out where Captain America would make a comment about this sort of issue. First he checks to see if he has an official website, which he does, but doesn’t seem to be updated. Then, he checks to see if he has a Twitter. To Scalia’s dismay, Captain America does have a certified Twitter. “Well,” he mutters. “Technically, he is only thirty. And kids do like to go on Twitter.” Sometimes, it is hard to believe that he is older than his oldest hero. Other times, he feels glad that he gets to live in a world where Steve Rogers is still alive.

That is, until he sees Captain America’s Twitter page.

_Never been more proud of my country._

_Thanks to brave Justices Kagan, Sotomayor, Kennedy, Breyer and especially Ginsberg._

_I’ve been in love with a man since the 1930s. Great to have our country recognize it._

_If you’re a vet and need resources, check out_ [ _http://www.patientcare.va.gov/Lesbian_Gay_Bisexual_and_Transgender_LGBT_Veteran_Care.asp_ ](http://www.patientcare.va.gov/Lesbian_Gay_Bisexual_and_Transgender_LGBT_Veteran_Care.asp) _(via @samthefalcon)._

Perhaps worst of all, are the pictures that pop up on the top of the feed while Scalia is reading, showing _Sergeant Bucky Barnes_ on one knee and proposing to Captain America, and the good Captain accepting.

“Preposterous!” Scalia fumes, then, “I think this calls for a _strongly_ worded letter.”

**…**

“Steve?” Bucky says from the computer they have in the living room. It’s a laptop, but they both use it, so they keep it in a place where it’s accessible to either one. And where neither of them can use it for any nefarious purposes, not that they’re going to talk about The Incident again.

“What?” Steve asks, trying to keep an eye on the soufflés that are in the oven. It’s an exact science, and frankly, Bucky should know better than to talk loudly while they are baking. Soufflés are delicate, and since these are celebration soufflés, Steve wants them to be perfect.

As if sensing Steve’s even mild consternation towards Bucky, Jacques-Ignace de la Touche yips menacingly at Steve. Steve hurries towards Bucky, and away from his strange, slightly scary dog. “You gotta see this,” Bucky says, angling the screen towards Steve, completely ignorant of how Jacques-Ignace de la Touche may, one day, lead to their demise.

Then again, thoughts of Jacques-Ignace de la Touche _and_ the soufflés are pretty much non-existent when he sees that Antonin Scalia, Supreme Court Justice of the United States, has written an open letter addressed to him. “It’s hilarious,” Bucky says. “Wait ‘till you get to the line about aliens.”

Steve grabs the computer, and sits down to read the letter.

Bucky gets the soufflés out of the oven when they’re done.

**…**

“He said that he was less shocked when aliens attacked New York City than when I came out of the closet,” Steve says, still flabbergasted as Bucky sprays some more whipped cream onto his soufflé. “Last time I checked I’d been out since 2012. Did I miss something?”

“No, he did,” Bucky says, grinning. Jacques-Ignace de la Touche yips, and Bucky sprays a little dab of whipped cream onto his index finger, which he then lowers for Jacques-Ignace de la Touche to lick off. Disgusting, but adorable. “He was just too busy loving Captain America to realize that Steve Rogers is a raging homo—“

Steve elbows him, and Jacques-Ignace de la Touche yips at the disturbance of his whipped cream. Steve sighs, looking back down at the computer. “He says I’m setting a bad example for the children, Buck.”

“To be fair, you were never a _great_ example for the children, what with the running into danger, getting into fights, and your inability to shut your big fat trap.” Steve scowls, Bucky grins. “Eat your soufflé. We’re supposed to be celebratin’ gettin’ hitched. Remember?”

“We didn’t get hitched,” Steve corrects. “Just made the plan to be—“

Bucky groans. “ _Eat the soufflé_.”

“You know what I’m going to have to do about this, right?” Steve asks.

“Kill him?” Bucky responds, perking up, hopeful. On the ground, Jacques-Ignace de la Touche mimics the movement.

Steve nods, and Bucky’s eyes widen. “With kindness,” he amends, and Bucky groans.

**…**

“Your article is breaking our records,” Christine says over the phone to Steve three days later. Steve wasn’t entirely sure where to go to publish his response to Justice Scalia, but Stark’s recommendation of Christine Everhart was not misguided. “Have you considered our offer of writing a guest column?”

“I’m afraid that I’m going to decline,” Steve says. “Don’t have all that much to talk about.”

“Well, I hope you’ll reconsider.”

“If I change my mind, I’ll let you know.” He pauses. “And if you hear back from Justice Scalia, please let me know.”

“You know I will.”

Steve sighs after signing off and hanging up. “Any luck?” Natasha asks from her perch on the couch. She’s petting a contented Jacques-Ignace de la Touche. Jacques-Ignace de la Touche is sitting in Steve’s usual place on the couch, and gives Steve a little challenging look, daring him to try to claim his place.

“Apparently it’s one of _Vanity Fair_ ’s most viewed online articles.” He sighs. “Which is nice, but there’s no word of whether or not it actually reached Justice Scalia.”

“Give it a day or two,” Natasha says, just running her hand through Jacques-Ignace de la Touche’s blond fur.

**…**

“Did you see the letter?” one of Scalia’s interns whispers to another. Little do they know, that for all of his issues, Scalia’s hearing isn’t one of them. The other nods. “Yeah, it was really classy.”

“What’re you talking about?” Scalia grumbles.

The one intern swallows hard. “Um,” he says. Yale Law School, and all he can do is say um. “Captain Rogers wrote an open letter to you on _Vanity Fair_ ’s website.”

Despite Captain America’s apparent homosexuality, Scalia can’t help but grow a little excited at the thought of his childhood idol acknowledging him. Even if it was after he attacked him.

“Oh,” Scalia says, feigning nonchalance. “Maybe I’ll take a look. If you’d excuse me…”

Scalia hurries into his office and shuts the door, boots up his laptop, and reads.

“He’s asking me to go to dinner with him and his fiancé?” he asks no one in particular when he’s finished reading. He weighs the situation in his large, smart mind. Perhaps if he met with Captain America, he could convince him of the unconstitutional nature of the law, and get him to give him his support in trying to combat the decision. Or, he could create some sort of a comedic gambit wherein the good Captain realizes not only breaks it off with his sergeant, but both realize that homosexuality is a sin and are reborn as good Christian soldiers.

He ponders, then calls one of his interns in.

“Yes?” the young, white, male youth asks. He’s a recent Columbia law graduate with a well-connected father. He’ll go far in this world.

“I need you to contact the State Department, and tell them that I need Captain Rogers’ personal phone number.”

“Sir, what if—“

“They’ll give it to me,” Scalia says. “If not, I’ll give them a talking to.”

**…**

Davis, the intern—who has secretly been in the closet since age 12 and has feigned Republicanism since he realized that his father didn’t have an in with the Democratic Party—realizes quickly that no one in the State Department wants anything to do with Scalia, let alone wants a stern talking to from him. He gets the number easily.

**…**

Bucky is blowing Steve when his phone rings.

“It could be important.”

“This is important,” Bucky says, words nearly incomprehensible because of the big, thick cock in his mouth.

But Steve sees the DC area code, and knows that there’s a chance that this cold be Justice Scalia. Holding back the moan that’s threatening to escape his lips, he accepts the call. “Steve Rogers,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Captain Rogers, this is Supreme Court Justice of the United States Antonin Scalia.” Bucky has dropped Steve’s dripping, hard cock from his mouth, but is licking it a little. Steve shoots him a glare, and Bucky smirks back, dropping a sloppy kiss onto his thigh before scooting off of him and onto the other side of the bed.

Steve hopes Scalia makes this phone call very short, because Bucky is naked and beautiful and Jacques-Ignace de la Touche is actually sleeping at a decent hour, which means he and Bucky can have sexy times without having Jacques-Ignace de la Touche watching.

(Once they tried locking him out of the room. Bucky had moaned, and Jacques-Ignace de la Touche had burnt their door down and looked about ready to kill Steve, too. Thankfully Bucky had soothed Jacques-Ignace de la Touche, and they let him into the room now. Not ideal, but okay.)

“I read your letter in _Vanity Fair_.” There’s a bit of a scoff in the man’s voice. “One would think you would have gone to a less biased source, such as _The Times_.”

“I have a friend who works at _Vanity Fair_ ,” Steve says. Maybe friend is a bit of an overstatement, but if Christine somehow feels offended by it, he’ll just agree to the column. “She was able to get the letter approved quickly.”

“It was well-written,” Scalia adds, and it makes Steve smile just a bi. He glances at Bucky, who is touching himself, staring intensely at Steve. Steve flushes, and very pointedly looks away, because he is speaking to one of the smartest—if most misguided—people in the country, and cannot be distracted by his ridiculous, beautiful fiancé and his wonderful cock. “I think,” Scalia says, startling Steve out of his little daze. “That I would like tot make you and your fiancé up on your dinner offer.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Steve says. “When would be convenient for you?”

“I have a space in my schedule tomorrow night, if you both are in D.C.”

“Perfect,” Steve says. “We are.”

“Then I can make us a reservation at—“

“Oh, excuse me, your honor. I was thinking he and I could cook for you.”

There’s an uncomfortable pause. “Cook?” he asks.

“Yes,” Steve replies. “Bucky is a great chef—“ Bucky rolls his eyes, but the effect is sort of ruined because he’s _still jerking himself off_ and Steve almost wants to tell him to wait for him, but that would be _so_ inappropriate right now. “—And you’ll be more than safe at our apartment. We are super soldiers, so we can both probably agree that security isn’t an issue. You can, of course, bring your own detail, but this is safer than any restaurant.”

“Overkill,” Bucky whispers. Steve glares.

“Well,” Scalia says. “I will accept your offer, then. How does five o’clock sound.”

“Great,” Steve says, then gives his address. “I look forward to seeing you.”

“And I, you,” Scalia. “Enjoy your evening.”

Steve hangs up, and Bucky gives him an unimpressed look. “Guess I’m cookin' pig,” he says.

“Why’s that?” Steve asks, crawling over to Bucky and hovering over him.

“‘Cuz he is one,” Bucky explains, grinning, and Steve leans down and kisses that smirk right off his face.

**…**

Bucky does end up cooking pork—apple cider glazed pork chops, with steamed green beans, corn pudding, and a strawberry-pretzel icebox pie. “You owe me,” he says, since Steve does nothing to help but taste test. “Usin’ my time and recipes on some bigoted asswipe who takes joy from other people’s oppression.”

Steve moves across the kitchen, scooting up behind Bucky and holding him from behind, a hand on either side of his hips and huddling up close. He kisses Bucky’s neck as he braises the chops in the pan. “I’ll make it up to you,” Steve promises, swaying Bucky’s hips a little. “Just let me know how…” He kisses at Bucky’s neck.

“Then we’re going to the dog park,” Bucky says. “And then _you_ have to clean the mud off of Jacques-Ignace de la Touche’s feet.”

Steve groans. “I was thinking something a bit sexier,” he admits.

“Yeah well,” Bucky says, brushing sauce onto the chops. “Should’ve thought about that before you invited Jabba the Republican Hutt into our apartment.”

“It’s for the good of the country.” Steve can’t help but notice the Captain America stage voice coming out of his mouth.

“Both of us died for the good of the country,” Bucky mutters to the pork chops. “Think we’d get a goddamn break every so often.”

Jacques-Ignace de la Touche yips in agreement from underfoot.

Despite Bucky’s irritation, there’s a knock on the door twelve minutes later. Steve opens it, and there’s Antonin Scalia in all his stout, gruff glory. “Captain Rogers,” he says.

“Your Honor,” Steve says, half-expecting Scalia to relax his posture a little and tell him to call him Tony, but he just nods. “Come on in,” Steve says, then calls to the kitchen. “Bucky, our guest is here.”

Steve’s changed out of his t-shirt and blue jeans into khaki slacks and a blue button down, but couldn’t bring himself to force Bucky to dress up, not when he’s forced him to spend the day cooking for a terrible person.   So Bucky walks out in jeans, a black crewneck and navy apron, metal arm shining at his side. “This is my fiancé, Bucky Barnes,” Steve introduces. Bucky gives a tense half-smile and holds the metal hand out to Scalia.

Looking a little nervous, Scalia shakes it. Steve is very proud that Bucky doesn’t even try to break the man’s fingers. Noticing that someone he doesn’t know is touching Bucky, Jacques-Ignace de la Touche yips, and starts hoping up at Scalia’s legs. Bucky lets go of Scalia’s hand and scoops up Jacques-Ignace de la Touche with his metal arm. Jacques-Ignace de la Touche growls a bit at Scalia. Steve is almost proud.

“This is Jacques-Ignace de la Touche,” Bucky introduces with a straight—ha ha—face. Steve can never keep a straight face when he tells people Jacques-Ignace de la Touche’s name. But Bucky loves Jacques-Ignace de la Touche so much, Steve doesn’t even think it registers to him how embarrassing Jacques-Ignace de la Touche’s name is. “He’s a rescue.”

“He seems energetic,” Scalia says, eyeing Jacques-Ignace de la Touche. Jacques-Ignace de la Touche eyes Scalia back.

“He’s magical, and can cause explosions at his will,” Bucky says, stroking Jacques-Ignace de la Touche’s fur with his flesh hand.

Scalia balks, and Steve realizes that this probably isn’t the ideal way to start the evening.

**…**

“You were both raised Irish Catholic?” Scalia asks as they eat the salad Bucky whipped up as a first course. He made the dressing from scratch. Scalia comments that he appreciates Newman’s Own.

“Alexander Pierce had Newman’s Own in his fridge,” Bucky says offhand, staring a little out into the distance.

And now Scalia’s brought up religion.

“Yes,” Steve says. “Church every Sunday.

“We were altar boys,” Bucky says.

“I wonder then, how it is that you’ve abandoned the gospel,” Scalia adds, not subtle at all.

Steve is still thinking of how to answer when Bucky responds, “We ain’t. Jesus never said anythin’ about homosexuals, and he spent his times with thieves and prostitutes. Do you really think he’d be so offended by people lovin’ each other?”

“Sergeant Barnes, the gospel says—“

“The gospel, to me, is whatever came out of Jesus Christ’s mouth,” Bucky says. “Not how people’ve interpreted it in the last 2000 years. Things get lost in translation.”

Scalia huffs. “The King James Bible—“

“Wasn’t written until 1604,” Bucky says. Scalia raises an eyebrow. “Look it up; Father Peter taught me right.” Scalia, at least, does not take out his smart phone and check. Then again, Steve isn’t sure he has a smart phone. “Point is,” Bucky adds. “Taking these documents and holding them up to impossible, everlasting standards is flawed.”

“I feel like you’re talking about more than the Bible now,” Scalia says.

“The Constitution was a crapshoot, when you think about it. _All_ our founding documents were, because they were really the first of their kind—and don’t quote the fuckin’ Magna Carta at me, because both of us know that it’s a cheap shot that doesn’t have anythin’ to do with the Englithenment—and it’s a miracle they worked. Like, yeah the Articles of Confederation was a first draft, but that led to Shay’s Rebellion, so I don’t think we can really consider that to be a good example of government.”

“The point that you’re missing, Sergeant, is that we need to keep these documents as initially intended _because_ they did work.”

“But it’s ridiculous to assume that even the Founding Fathers thought the document would last, especially given the failure of the Articles of Confederation. Maybe if you ceased to deify them for even an _instant_ —“

Scalia raises his voice, “You would _dare_ insult my interpretation of—“

In retrospect, Steve probably should’ve told the Justice to watch his tone around Bucky, and more importantly, around Jacques-Ignace de la Touche. Once Scalia’s voice reaches a certain register, Jacques-Ignace leaps to action. Yipping, he jumps and hovers above the table, shimmering a sparkling gold that means only terrible, terrible things are about to happen. Steve can only watch as he yips again, hovering over Scalia’s head, and lifts one leg. A strong stream of molten gold dog pee lands on Scalia’s stunned head, and drips down Scalia’s paralyzed face. The pee smells like apricot nectar, and crystalizes on contact with Scalia. Then, once Jacques-Ignace de la Touche emptied himself, Jacques-Ignace de la Touche yips again, a triumphant noise that causes the pee to rise from Scalia’s head, briefly form a halo floating above it, before disappearing. Jacques-Ignace de la Touche casually floats over to Bucky, and lands in his lap, looking up at his owner for approval, and probably a piece of those pork chops.

And Scalia comes back to life. “But,” he says, calm, as if he hadn’t just been pissed on by a magical Pomeranian. “I do see that you may have a point, Sergeant. In fact, the whole notion of being an originalist seems… Somewhat futile, and wrong.” He pauses, thoughtful. “If you wouldn’t mind serving the pork chops and telling me about your opinions on the separation of church and state, I would appreciate it, Sergeant.”

Steve and Bucky stare at one another.

“The pork smells lovely,” Scalia adds.

Jacques-Ignace de la Touche yips, knowingly.

**…**

When Scalia’s letter announcing his shift to liberal thought come out in the _New York Times_ two days later, Steve just stares at Jacques-Ignace de la Touche. “Your dog peed liberalism onto the United States’ most conservative Supreme Court Justice.”

Bucky just shrugs. “Think we can invite Thomas over next week? I have a few bones to pick with that guy…”

Jacques-Ignace de la Touche yips and wags his tail, and Steve gets on the phone with the State Department minutes later.

(If he’s got the power, he might as well use it.)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, it can't be worse than my James Franco fic.
> 
> If you don't hate me after writing this, you can follow me on Tumblr at whtaft.tumblr.com.


End file.
